


Something I Will Never Have

by izazov



Category: Marvel Cinematic Universe
Genre: Angst, M/M, Not A Fix-It, Post-Captain America: Civil War (Movie), Steve Feels, Steve Needs a Hug
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-02-20
Updated: 2018-02-20
Packaged: 2019-03-21 12:05:15
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,337
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/13740513
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/izazov/pseuds/izazov
Summary: To want something doesn't equal getting it. Steve Rogers is intimately familiar with that truth.





	Something I Will Never Have

**Author's Note:**

> This fic was inspired by [a beautifully tragic art](http://hellogarbagetime.tumblr.com/post/155864171959/after-i-posted-those-bojack-horseman-quotes-that) made by [faite](http://hellogarbagetime.tumblr.com/tagged/hello-garbage-tag). It was written in response to [THE STEVETONY ART-FOR-FIC & FIC-FOR-ART MADNESS](https://cap-ironman.dreamwidth.org/1866602.html#cutid1) challenge over at Cap/IM Dreamwidth community.

“Staring at it won’t make it ring, you know that, right?”

Steve huffed out a small laugh. “Thought I should give it a try,” Steve said. He didn’t look away from the phone he was holding. It was an outdated model; clumsy, big and ridiculously simple compared to the latest models of smartphones. A notion Steve was intimately familiar with. “Not like I have something better to do.”

“You could try solitaire,” Sam suggested.

Steve looked up, meeting Sam’s gaze across the room. “Solitaire,” he repeated, arching an eyebrow. “Really?”

Sam shrugged and waved in Steve’s general direction. “It sure as hell beats brooding alone in the dark.”

Steve was ready to argue that statement. Sam probably expected it of him. But he couldn’t muster enough energy for denial.

“Probably,” Steve said with a tight smile. The room was half-submersed in darkness, and the only light came from the large sign outside Steve’s room, the words ‘Sea Breeze Motel’ blazing in blue neon light. It wasn’t a particularly appropriate name for a motel in Arizona. “But I’m lousy at cards.”

Sam snorted then pushed himself away from the doorway.

“Probably not as lousy as you are at handling your private life,” Sam said, taking a seat on the floor next to Steve. Steve gave him a sideways glance. Sam met it levelly. “Come on, man. You’re one Nickelback song away from actual teenage angst.”

“And what do you suggest I do instead?”

“My first suggestion would be to get the hell out of here, but since that’s not happening, I’d have to go with the obvious. Call him.”

Steve let out a snort of disbelief and shook his head. “You make it sound so simple, Sam,” Steve said. “It really isn’t.”

“Why? I don’t know Stark well but he doesn’t seem like a subtle guy,” Sam said. “He might tell you to go fuck yourself, but at least that way you’ll know where you stand.”

Steve looked down at the phone still clutched in his hand. It would take just a slight squeeze to crush it. The thought made Steve’s chest tighten uncomfortably.

So much of Steve’s life depended on a small piece of plastic that could be destroyed easily. Steve’s eyes flickered shut for a second, his grip around the phone tightening protectively.

“And what if I don’t want to know where I stand?” Steve asked, voice low and brittle around the edges.

Sam stared at him one long moment. “Deliberate denial doesn’t suit you well, Steve.”

Steve sighed, tracing the outline of the phone with his thumb. “I prefer the word hope.”

Sam blinked, his forehead creasing. “I’m beginning to think there is more to this than I know. And the shit I know qualifies for a Greek tragedy.”

Steve hesitated one moment. He wasn’t sure that this particular truth, said out loud, would set him free. Or make him feel better. But he was tired. Tired of living with a constant ache inside his chest. Everyone deserved at least a moment of rest.

If not forgiveness.

“We were sleeping together,” Steve said. His voice didn’t waver. Even if his throat felt raw with the admission. “Tony and I.”

Sam blinked. Once, twice. “Huh.”

Steve let out a startled sound. “That is all you have to say?”

Sam shrugged. “I didn’t see it coming, no, but it puts some things in perspective.”

Steve smiled, a tight, strained smile. “What things?”

Sam gave him an incredulous look. “Steve, you are a wanted fugitive in this country and you’re sitting alone in the dark and clutching a cellphone. You carry that thing around everywhere. I’ve seen you shrug off being shot but that time in Lebanon when you thought you’d lost it, you looked ready to faint.” Pausing, Sam gave him a soft smile. “And let me tell you, it wasn’t a pretty sight.”

Steve glanced away, smiling faintly. “You’re not going to tell me that I’m a selfish, lying asshole?”

“Wasn’t planning on it,” Sam said after a moment of consideration. “Would that make you feel better? Me, judging you?”

“Isn’t that what I deserve?” Steve grit out, fingers of his spare hand clenching into a fist until his knuckles turned white.

“You tell me.”

“I knew the truth about his parents’ murder and hid it from him, and I still went to his bed,” Steve said, each word leaving a bloody, invisible trail on the inside of his throat. “I couldn’t-- I didn’t want to stop.” Sucking in a harsh breath, Steve let out a sound that sounded horrible even to his own ears: jagged and raw with misery. “What kind of a person does that make me?”

“I’d say it makes you human,” Sam said. “Or in love. Possibly both.”

Steve went deathly still. He blinked, something like panic clawing at his chest. He had feelings for Tony. Deep, messy, complicated feelings but he wouldn’t call it love.

He couldn’t call it love.

“Actually, I’m surprised you went for it,” Sam went on, ignoring Steve's silence. “For Stark, I mean.”

Steve dragged his fingers through his hair. They were shaking faintly. “It wasn’t deliberate choice,” Steve said. Something fond and bitter and aching twisted in the hollow of his chest. “I wasn’t actively trying to complicate my life. It… just happened.”

“I didn’t mean being attracted to Stark,” Sam clarified with a twist of his lips. “I meant doing something about it.”

Steve felt a spark of anger lit up inside him. “Why? I can’t be selfish like everyone else? I can’t have sex? I can’t be anything but a goddamned symbol?”

Pushing himself to his feet, Steve strode over to the window. He grabbed the windowsill with his free hand, his chest rising and falling with heavy breaths.

Steve heard the rustle of clothes, followed by the sound of steps but he didn’t turn around.

“You forgot stubborn and impulsive dick,” Sam said, but he didn’t sound angry or hurt. “But the thing is, Steve, you usually don’t go for what you want.”

Steve bowed his head until his forehead rested against the glass. “I should have stuck to it. It would have been better for everyone involved.”

Tony hating him was bad enough. Tony hurting while hating him was infinitely worse.

A beat of silence. “Were you happy? With Stark?”

Images began flooding his mind. Tony’s smiling at him - a knowing, intimate smile; his fingers carding through Tony’s hair. Tony, naked underneath him. His mouth tracing the knobs of Tony’s spine. Tony laughing. Tony glaring at him over the rim of his coffee mug. Tony walking around in nothing but Steve’s shirt.

Tony, Tony, _Tony_.

“Yeah,” Steve managed, voice low and ragged. “I was.”

In spite of his lie and guilty conscience, Steve had been happy. That should have been his greatest clue that it wouldn’t last.

“I’m not going to ask if you’re happy now because that would be stupid,” Sam said, and Steve had to bite down on his lower lip to stop himself from laughing out loud. “But there is something I need to ask you. You don’t have to answer, just think about it. What do you want? Right now?”

A few years ago, Steve didn’t have an answer to that question. Now? He didn’t even have to think about it, the answer was like a tattoo branded across his mind.

And heart.

It was a dream. An impossible dream, now, for all its simplicity and it always played out the same: Steve would come back home, tired and worn out, and crawl into the bed with Tony. Tony would smile at him, sleep-soft and tender. ‘How was your day?’ he would ask, and then Steve would answer ‘My day was fine.’

And then Tony would say something he’d never said. And now he never would.

_‘I love you.’_

“What I want?” Steve said, more to himself than Sam. He could feel something warm and wet slide down his cheeks. “What I always wanted. Something I’ll never have.”


End file.
